"Alright," said Scar, "it's been nice knowing you." "Likewise." There was searing pain in Cleo's chest and a few frantic seconds of gasping for air, and then nothing. They were dead . . . and then they woke up. --- Cleo lives and dies and lives again . . . and a few more times, for good measure. Installation 11 of The Foxlore Collection This fic can be read on its own.